


We Have Nothing To Fear

by songofariver



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Bad Things Happen To Carlos, Carlos-centric, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Freaked Out Carlos, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Science, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, it'll be FLUFFY AND CUTE EVENTUALLY I SWEAR, well ghosts aren;t particularly scientific but then again this is night vale we're talking about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofariver/pseuds/songofariver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate universe where Carlos <i>doesn't</i> survive the incident with the miniature city (from ep.25 - One Year Later).<br/>And he comes back as a ghost.<br/>And our dear naive scientist, unaccustomed to Night Vale's abnormal rules of reality, has no idea how to handle this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Carlos is glad that he isn't alone in the strange town.

It's a lot to take in. It would be for _anyone_ accustomed to the typical nature of reality, really. Someone can't so much as step outside here without hearing the grass humming its gentle harmonic tunes, or seeing dark figures dart around the corner of the building to hide, or having to retreat to the (comparative) safety of the indoors due to the danger of being smothered by the torrential downpour of animal carcasses.

That's the reason he has his team of scientists to back him up on the rare occasions when his courage ("curiosity", he corrects them, "it's just scientific curiosity, stop being so dramatic") wavers and the desire to _live_ takes priority.

He's their boss, though. He's the most experienced, most _qualified_ , even though he never flaunts it. When something new or unusual or _cool_ is discovered, he is the one who leads the team to investigate.

Which is why a younger scientist reports directly to him when news of the chaos at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex first breaks.

She's breathless and wide-eyed, hair a frizzy mess from having sprinted all the way to the lab. "I - I know I should have stayed there," she says quickly, nearly tripping over her words, "and investigated it myself, not come back 'till it was over, but, like, that was...really freaky."

This is met with Carlos's somewhat skeptical expression as he pulls off goggles, replacing them with his usual glasses. "'Freaky'. Really."

"Sorry. I know how dumb that sounds," she replies, apologetic but not especially regretful. "This might be something big. It'd make more sense for you to look into it. I mean, it's, well..."

"Something big. Yes, I get that." He's a gentle man, and he's kind, but the fact that the last twenty-three (yes, he'd been counting) oddities that had been brought to him were described as 'something important' or 'something big' or a variation thereof certainly doesn't help. They don't like to face potential dangers on their own. That much is obvious. That makes sense. But it _also_ makes him very, very busy, not to mention _stressed_.

Carlos realizes then that she's still standing in front of him and waiting for a response.

"I'll head over," he replies, giving her a tired smile and waving a hand. "C'mere- think you can handle this project while I'm out?"

"Yeah! Thanks." She comes over to the table, yanking the goggles down over her eyes, the aforementioned chaos momentarily forgotten.

The older scientist moves to leave but hesitates in the doorway, one foot inside, one out.

A small shudder runs up his spine. A familiar feeling.

Calmly, he reminds himself that he has done this countless times. He knows what he's doing. He's doing _science_. He's _learning_ and _exploring_ and _understanding_ and if he isn't willing to put himself out there and do just that, then he isn't sure who _would_.

The door closes silently behind him.

 

 

When Carlos has his mind set on something, little to nothing will stop him. He pushes past Teddy Williams, who is ranting and raving incoherent nonsense, and mutters something about how he needs to get to the bottom of this. It needs to be solved, if it is as 'freaky' as they say.

When he's inside, he slows down, approaching lane 5 cautiously.

She's _right_.

The chanting - low, soft, in a language he doesn't understand - echoes through the large room. The floor is vibrating slightly, with deep clanging resounding through the wooden floorboards, and as he gets closer to lane 5. " _They Are Here_ ", reads the name column over and over and over on the electronic score card that he passes by. " _They Are Here_ ". Jesus. Vague _and_ menacing. He really could've used some specificity as to _who_ right now, but, nope, of course he isn't going to get any. Not unless he found out for himself.

There is an underground city, Teddy Williams had yelled at him (with far more words, 78% of which were insults and/or profanity). This could be _fascinating_. Absolutely not a chance to pass up.

So Carlos walks up to the pin retrieval area and, without missing a beat, crouches and enters.

 

  
Five minutes later and he's bringing in a crowd, and they're standing on the edge of a cliff, reddish-brown desert clay kicking up puffs of dust under their shoes.

Below them the city is spread. It is impressive in expanse, countless shining metal spires reaching up toward the crowd from there they are far, far below. Or so it seems... until Carlos is suddenly _standing in the city_.

He is illuminated from below by the millions of tiny lit windows and streetlamps; his labcoat looks like it is  _glowing_ , and so does his face, open and in awe with the thrill of discovery. Turning back to the crowd he gestures to the city at his feet.

"Behold. This is _not_ an enormous city miles below the earth. It is a very _small_ city about _ten feet_ below the earth, populated by tiny people who have had to spend a year slowly climbing the _ten feet_ to our world!" He can hear the sound of the chanting drawing nearer, unmistakable now. And what can only be _marching_.

Something is beginning to feel very _very wrong_.

He's a scientist, though, and he knows that he's the only one these people have to reply on for the comfort truth. He needs to finish.

So he spreads his arms wide.

"We have nothing to fear!"

 

Everything happens all at once.

Carlos doesn't feel the pain at first - just the _force_ of the blast, slamming into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He staggers back against the wall, then his legs give out and he's on the floor and, _fuck_ , with every pulse of his heart comes a wave of searing agony and the blood pooling out under him spreads further and _there is so much more he wants to do and he isn't ready for this yet not now not_ now _not-_

Thick black smears cloud his vision, but the crowd of Night Valeians ten feet above him are unable - or _unwilling_ - to help as the last shards of consciousness slip from his weakening grasp.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i write such short chapters i'm sorry

Everything is dark.

For what feels like a long, long time, an _eternity_ , Carlos can see nothing. He can feel nothing, either; he feels smothered in black velvet and his mind is blank. Empty.

And then he's standing in lane 5.

The room is blindingly bright as his eyes try to readjust to light. There's sounds- people are in a crowd, retreating from lane 5 and making their painstakingly slow way toward the front door. They're leaving.

Carlos calls after them. _What happened? What's going on?_

He doesn't get a reply. Doesn't even get a _glance_.

Right. He'd been in the pin retrieval area, before that darkness. He'd been telling everyone about that... that teeny tiny city. So Carlos crouches and re-enters, looking, searching for something, some _explanation_ , and as he gets further in a heavy sinking feeling takes hold of his gut and he finds himself clenching his teeth and preparing himself for whate-

There.

There is _him_.

And as the realization hits him - scientific facts and figures for the moment overrun by the power of knowing that _anything_ can happen in Night Vale, _fucking anything can happen_ \- Carlos crumples to the floor, shoulders heaving and shaking, hands clutching at the dry soil and finding nothing to hold onto for support.

 

 

  
Since Carlos arrived in Night Vale, he has been going out of his way to find and chart all of the town's abnormalities.

But never - until now - has he become so personally tangled with one of those bizarre occurrences.

Time being nonlinear and inconstant, he has no idea how long it takes him to pull himself together enough to leave. But when he does he is no longer crying. He feels numb, but is aching for understanding, for _help_. How is one supposed to _handle_ being dead?! It's not as though there are "How to Ghost" books out there, at least not to his knowledge. And, even worse, he knows for certain that the undead are not a subject that his scientists have gotten around to researching yet. What he needs right now is _logic_ and _reason_ and _scientifically-validated fact_ , not mere iffy urban legend. He needs something stable to work off of.

This is when he begins to wander the town, looking, pitifully and desperately, for answers.

The first thing that Carlos learns is that he is somewhat translucent. This, needless to say, weirds him out on multiple levels.

The next thing that he learns, he learns by attempting interaction with various Night Vale citizens who he knew prior to his death (though he refuses to think that word because it makes him cringe), such as Teddy Williams, and John Peters, You Know, The Farmer. _None of them acknowledge his existence_.

He's not sure whether it is that they actually can't see him, or they're just choosing to ignore him. Regardless, it's disconcerting and isolating, and it definitely doesn't help with the feeling of complete helplessness that has begun to settle into his bones.

Also? He can't move physical objects. At all. His hand just passes right through them. (Except for what he was wearing when he died - those seem to have crossed dimensions along with him.) Due to his discomfort, he doesn't try to walk through walls, but logically it makes sense that he'd be able to.

He's too scared to return to the lab. It feels like if they see him, this will all just become... so much more _real_.

 

 

 

Hours (?) later, and it's mid evening.

 

Carlos is sitting on a curb, watching the concrete at his feet. It isn't doing anything interesting. But it's something to stare at, and it's something that is acting exactly the same as it had before.

He's tried visiting everyone (besides the scientists) who he knew before, and _no one acknowledged_ -

Oh. Wait.

There is _one person_ he hasn't seen.

Cecil. That radio host, the one who says nice things about him on the radio, who seems to know anything and everything there could possibly be to know about this town. Cecil, who insists he is merely a journalist, but in reality is an expert on everything there is to ask questions about in this town.

Cecil, who might - just _might_ , let's not get hopes up absurdly high here - actually be _different_ than the rest of them.

Might _acknowledge him_.

...Well. It's not like Carlos has any other choice.

It could be worth the shot.

 

 

 


End file.
